Wonderment
by every-holmes-for-every-watson
Summary: "Hear my soul speak:" his deep voice rumbled, making me freeze, "The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service." Sherlock and John speaking their affections through touch, and Shakespeare. Johnlock! Complete.


**_Don't know where I got this idea from, but I really hope you guys enjoy this! Please review!(: _**

**John's POV**

His breath tickled my skin, and I felt goosebumps rising up to my skin. His arms were protectively around me, and my face was hidden in the crook of his neck. Reluctantly, he pulled away. A curl of hair rested upon my forehead, (wow I really need to get a haircut) and his hand traced it back to my ear, leaving behind a safe sigh. I looked into his eyes, his eyes that spoke of colors, and saw the yearning that rested beneath them. My hands cruised up along his body, memorizing the places that made his breath hitch, and rested upon his neck.

"_One half of me is yours_," I whisper, trailing letters across his chest now, "_the other half yours, Mine own, I would say;_" a whimper fell from his throat, "_but if mine, then yours_." My words tip toed to his perfect lips, and my breath shyly mingled onto them. He gave a sharp inhale, smiling among my scent. Gently, as if he were made of glass, I laid my lips onto his. Soft touches glazed up my back, and my spine shivered in pleasure. I kissed along his jaw line, making for his ear. "_And so all yours_."

"_Hear my soul speak:_" his deep voice rumbled, making me freeze, "_The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service._"

I shook with his words, and moved closer into him, as if I was trying to melt our bodies into one. I felt noble brushes of his lips glide up my arm, stopping at my collar bone. He gave it a tiny nip and kissed it, as if he was giving a silent apology.

"Hamlet," I say, my voice shaky, "recite me Hamlet."

"_Doubt thou the stars are fire;_" his words dripped of emotion, and I felt like I was drowning in a puddle of nerves, "_Doubt that the sun doth move;_" his breath was now dancing up my neck, "_Doubt truth to be a liar;"_ his face now was millimeters above mine, "_But never doubt I love._"

By now our kisses were longer, our passion painted within each brush of skin. Running out of breath, we sadly broke apart and I shuffled down to rest upon his chest.

"_Now cracks a noble heart. Good-night, sweet prince;"_ I extract a loud sigh, and laid my head against his fast beating heart, "_and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest_."

Silence wrapped around us like a warm blanket. His heart slowed, and I counted each one as if I were counting sheep. My fingers found his and clamped them together, rubbing small circles on the smooth skin before my thumb.

"_Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear_;" my voice paints, his breath stopping for a quick second.

"_Where little fears grow great_," he continued, his other hand messing with the stubby parts of my hair.

"_Great love grows there_." we finish.

I now look upon his golden face, and am met with a penetrative gaze. I smiled sweetly to him, and he leaned forward to bless me with the simple caress of his lips upon my forehead and I felt at peace. I laid closer to him, (if possible) and let my heart be overwhelmed with love and devotion. By now, our fingers were apart and his arms were wrapped around me. He was tapping a rhythm onto my arm - Mozart, I found - and submerged myself into our own little world.

"_To be, or not to be: that is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles._" I heard him voice, his words feeling like silk within my troubled mind.

"_And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation-_"

_Devoutly to be wish'd. _I think, letting the words of Hamlet lull me to sleep.

"_Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; to sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; f__or in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil," _his voice became slowed and gravelly,_ "Must give us pause: there's the respect._"

"_That makes calamity of so long life._" I finish for him.

He gives a gentle hum, and am rewarded with a tamed squeeze.

"I love you." I announce, my eyelashes encountering on his cheek.

I knew he was asleep, but I felt the urgency to say it so. I watched his chest rise and fall as he slept, and I suddenly felt envious at the beauty his whole body possessed. I am envious of the perfection he has, that I have yearned for. I am angry he devoted his time to me, for I am unworthy of his affections. A Consulting Detective in a relationship with a regular ex army doctor? He could do so much more; I know he could do so much more. And, yet, here I am. Wanting to spend the rest of my life with this git. Becoming old men, relaxing in our rocking chairs, bickering about old cases in the past. Each day is a new challenge, Sherlock is still fairly new to all of this, and despite all of his faults (and god, even mine), I still love him unconditionally. No one will ever love Sherlock more than I love him. It would take more than a lifetime to tell Sherlock every little thing I love about him. Pretty sure he'd use that excuse to try it as an "experiment." Even so, even his harsh words he says when he doesn't realize it, or the body parts he leaves in the fridge when I specifically tell him not to, or even when he decides not to get groceries so I'm left to do it, I love him. God knows I do. I never thought I'd find something as beautiful and fragile as I did, but a brilliant man once said:

_"Love sought is good, but given unsought is better."  
_  
_Better than you could ever think, _I add.

_I'm better than I ever was,_ I realize, the truth being handed in front of me. _I'm better than I ever will be. _

And, surprisingly, I'm okay with that.


End file.
